A Voice That Carries
by PolaroidAnykid
Summary: Corky and I have not figured out where EXACTLY we're going with this. It's mostly about friendship and our favorite Newsboys. ON HIATUS(until I get my computer fixed)


_Author's note: This co-written story is brought to you by the minds of Polaroid and Corky. We don't quite know EXACTLY where we're going with this, but we have a slight idea. Or, at least, Polaroid does. But we hope you enjoy this never-the-less._

**Disclaimer- Unfortunately, neither of us own the Newsies. It's quite sad, really.**

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**A Voice That Carries**

**_Chapter 1_**

Night fell silently around the partners-in-crime as they moved down the darkened streets, relieved to know that their harsh day of getting nowhere was coming to an end. The two, with blistering feet and sore bodies, dragged themselves passed the Newsboys Lodging House on Duane St. It was tempting to try and sneak on up to the bunkroom but the pair knew better. Stumbling down the street a bit further, they sighed as they came to their not-quite-humble-abode. It wasn't much, but it was at least a place they could call home. Climbing the few steps leading to the dilapidated old door, both girls stole a quick glance up at the faded sign that hung above them: "Newsgirl's Lodging House" it read, while someone had written "Home Sweet Home" in bold letters under that when the building was still sparkling and new. So much had changed since then. They had all changed since then… drastically changed.

As soon as the duo stepped through the doorway, they were bombarded with questions regarding their most recent (mis)adventures involving the 'rough and rowdy' leader of the Bronx newsboys, Razor. Razor was a tall thug with no regards for anyone but himself and he made it his personal duty to give any outsider dumb enough to step foot on his turf a hard time, even rough them up some if need be. The girls had learned their lesson well.

Jazz, the leader of the Manhattan Newsgirls, stepped forward and cleared her throat, signaling to the rest of her girls to stop talking.

"So, how'd it go with Razor?" The brunette asked, swiping a few strands of her chocolate brown hair behind her ears. The teen was by far one of the prettiest girls in the old lodging house. It was no small wonder the girl sold more papers than any of the rest of them combined. All she had to do was flip her hair over her shoulder, bat her long lashes and show off some of what the good Lord blessed her with and she'd have men lined up around the block to buy a paper, sometimes even two!

"I don't want to talk about it," Corky mumbled as she stumbled up the stairs, thinking only of the comforts of her bed. Jazz turned to the girl that followed closely behind Corky, a thin brown brow arched in curiosity.

"Just… no," Polaroid whispered, taking a deep breath in between words. She then sighed and closed her eyes as if she were about to cry, but no tears came out. Following her best friend, she lowered her head and walked exasperatedly up the steps to go to sleep.

When they finally made their way to the top of the stairs and into their beds, Corky stuck her head down from the top bunk to check on her best friend. It had been a long and tiresome journey home and she knew exactly what the girl was thinking. It was the same thing she was thinking: Never speak about what happened in the Bronx…ever. Offering her a small smile, she reached a hand down to pat the girl's shoulder before pulling herself back up onto her bed, hang her glasses up safely on the hook next to the bunk and slowly slip off to sleep.

The next morning came quicker than most of the Manhattan Newsies would have liked. Corky, who was usually the last one to stumble her way out of bed, woke up early to seek her revenge. The girl was sweet enough, when she wanted to be, but all the newsies had learned one way or another to watch out if anyone crossed her. She'd make it her mission in life to find vengeance on whoever wronged her…or at least aggravated her last.

Plotting a rude awakening for her best friend to get back at her for the dreadfully long journey the day before, Corky tip-toed over to the side of Polaroid's bed. Ripping the pillow from underneath Polaroid's head she smirked to herself as she whacked the other girl in the face with it. Polaroid rolled from her bunk, a hand covering her face as a cry escaped her lips. A pillow to the face was not how she had planned to start off her morning. Opening her eyes and blinking sleepily at Corky, she frowned as she pushed herself up off the cool floor.

"You're gonna get it for that one, Corks."

"You gotta catch me first, Poley. C'mon, up an' at 'em. We got some boys to wake up."

After all of the girls had been woken up (mostly from a domino effect of pillow fights that Corky started), they walked the few steps it took to get the Newsboy's Lodging House and let themselves in. As they walked through the door, Kloppman was just coming down from trying to wake the boys up.

"Hey-ya Kloppman, so where are the boys?" A tiny, bottle blonde named Props asked. "Specs said they were going to get up early so they could walk with us to the distribution center… so much for that!"

"They had a long night, last night. It might take them awhile to wake up, so there's no use in waiting," Kloppman explained, going back to his desk to do some work.

"No problem. We know how to get them up, right girls?" Corky smirked, remembering how the girls had woken up only a few minutes before. Taking that as their cue, the Manhattan girls ran up to the room that the boys were in and got to it. Grabbing the nearest pillows that weren't in use, their 'Mission: Impossible' task of waking the boys was underway.

With a little more force than necessary, the ladies went to work, thrusting pillows into the faces of the sleeping newsboys. Polaroid, however, opted out of all of the fun. Instead, she just stood back and giggled lightly as she watched Corky pull the covers off of Dutchy and hit him in the face with the pillow, making him jump.

Seeing who the culprit was, Dutchy grabbed his pillow and chased her around the small bunk. Corky defended herself from Dutchy's wrath by covering her face with her own pillow. "It wasn't me, I swears it!"

"I'm not gonna hurt ya," Dutchy chuckled. Corky slowly pulled the pillow away from her face, not sure whether or not to trust him.

As he raised his pillow, she let out a quick squeal. "I thought ya said ya wasn't gonna hurt me! Ya can't hit me! I'm a girl and I wear glasses! Yer too much of a gentleman ta hit a girl with glasses…r-right?"

"Well, I lied. You of all people should know not ta trust a newsboy. Sides, when has bein' a girl with glasses ever stopped ya from gettin' into a fight?"

Corky inched her way closer to him, turning on her charm. Giving a little pout, she shrugged her shoulders as she tucked a strand of her red-brown hair behind her ear.

"It hasn't, but, I just can't help it, ya know? Especially when said newsboy is as irresistible as da one in front of me. I just can't help but believe ya, Dutch-Dutch." Reaching forward with her left hand, she gently touched the side of his face. In the same motion, she brought her lips to meet his. It was a kiss that if any adult ever saw would leave them with their mouths hanging open. Definitely the kind of kiss used to distract a man, and distract him it did.

'This is it, he took the bait.' Corky thought as she used her free hand to snatch the pillow away from him. Dutchy pulled back and looked at her face, a small, sheepish grin on his face as his cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. Gads that girl was evil some days; giving a teenage boy that kind of kiss first thing after he woke up, not always the brightest idea. Gulping as his thoughts returned, his face paled as he realized what was going on.

"Maybe it's time for you to learn not to trust newsgirls," Corky smirked as she walked away from the blonde newsboy, whacking him in the back with his pillow before dropping it as she went.

Dutchy stared after her, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe what had just happened! He'd been tricked! And by his own girlfriend! How could he fall for that trick? If Spot could see him, he'd get the longest lecture of his life about how girls should never be trusted—they were fun as Hell to play with and definitely served their purposes on those long, cold New York winter nights—but never trust them more than you could throw 'em. He'd foolishly thought Corky was different. Well, she was different alright; a bit touched in the head sometimes he thought, but then again, that was half the reason he was with her. He never knew what to expect her to do or say next. With her, every day was a new adventure.

Pillows shot through the air around him like bullets, narrowly missing his head. It didn't take long before his ogling was interrupted by one of the flying pillows hitting him in the back of the head. Feeling his body jerk forward from the impact, he turned his head to try and find the culprit who hit him. This meant war! In no time at all, Dutchy was ducking behind his bed and dodging the pillows that were flying in his direction. He loved mornings like that, where everyone got along and spent time laughing and goofing around before having to get washed up and ready for the long day ahead of them. It was the closest thing to a family life the teen had ever known.

Managing to pick up stray pillows that had missed and fallen to the ground, the blonde boy fired his ammo at lightning speed towards his targets. He laughed like crazy as he chucked the pillows left and right, completely unaware just how out of hand he was becoming. The boys, who had just moments before been the ones throwing the bedding around, dodged the other newsboy carefully. Their eyes darting back and forth, they all seemed to be thinking the same thing. Acting as one, the group of six or seven boys dove towards the bunk Dutchy was hiding behind. "GET HIM!"


End file.
